Air flew from her lungs like a burst balloon. She felt light-headed. Undone. And nothing had even happened.

‘You can bask in your glory all evening at the party.’

‘What party?’ she said, swallowing.

‘It’s been a good day. Kyla’s lust for cheap glamour has been held in check. Mariella has pulled off a great feature. Of course there will be a party. They’re getting it ready now, at the old villa. Salvatore is coming here shortly—we have some things to discuss—and then we will come over to join you all.’

He was inside now, walking back to the lounge. The dogs pricked up their ears and tracked him with their eyes as he passed.

‘That’s amazing. I mean, I’m really, really pleased that you liked the work. Do you think...?’ She paused.

‘Do I think that there might be more commissions to follow?’ he said.

He unscrewed a bottle of water and poured it out slowly, rhythmically.

‘Perhaps... Kyla has some idea of a couple thing with Salvatore, so maybe they’ll want you to do that before the wedding. Mariella will talk that through with you tonight.’

‘That’s incredible. I can’t thank you enough.’

Her mind whirred. A party. The staff would all be there. Mariella and the others, drinking champagne and looking so well put together—the way they always looked. They worked in an industry where everything was about looking perfect, and they had access to every product, every accessory under the sun. Her vintage thrift shop dress had been just about good enough for daytime, but she’d look ridiculous wearing it again tonight.

‘I wish I’d known. I thought I’d be flying home tonight. I never imagined I’d be invited to a party. I’ve not brought anything to wear.’

‘That’s never a problem on a fashion shoot. Everyone will be helping themselves.’

‘But I can’t wear those clothes! I’m a totally different shape.’

‘There’ll be something to suit you. You’re not such a different shape than Kyla.’

‘I’m nothing like Kyla. She’s tiny. I’m...’

Coral ran a mental check over the clothes that had been brought, trying to imagine herself squeezing into something that might pass scrutiny.

‘You’re...what?’

He sipped water and looked at her.

‘I’m not easy to dress.’

‘I’m not sure I follow.’

‘I mean I have my own style.’

It was the best thing she could say in the circumstances. What was the alternative—pointing out her huge backside and overflowing boobs? No way!

‘You will not be difficult to dress at all. Stand there.’

He tilted his head and scanned her body, his eyes trailing slowly from her neck to her chest and down to her waist.

He walked around her. ‘Of course what you are wearing could be covering up some grave imperfections. Or perfections.’

‘I’m well aware of what suits me and what doesn’t.’

She watched his inscrutable face. He could be looking at a lump of rock for all he was giving away, but she was feeling electrified as his eyes slowly scanned her body.

‘The question is—what are you hiding under that dress? The perfect hourglass?’

He stepped closer and walked around her again. Coral felt her heart begin to thunder. She felt an unbearable desire for him to touch her with his hands.

‘You know, my longest love affair was with women’s fashion,’ he said, lifting her left arm up by the fingertips and scanning her from wrist to shoulder. ‘I remember going along to my mother’s couture fittings. Even as a very young child I was fascinated by the process—the illusions that could be created or destroyed. That’s one of the reasons I started Heavenly. It’s all behind me now, but I spent my first two years after college working on American Vogue, copywriting. And dating models.’

‘I’m no model, I can assure you,’ said Coral, suddenly cringing at the thought of her generous proportions.

He had stopped behind her. She could feel the heat from his body, his broad shoulders and firm biceps framing her. She could feel the roar of desire rampaging through her veins.

‘But you are incredibly beautiful. And you have a body that is driving me almost mad with curiosity.’

His words landed close to her right ear and she shivered uncontrollably. He moved around her, now lifting her right fingertips and staring down the length of her arm.

‘As an artist, you will know that fashion is a creative process. But you should never ignore the fact that what is pleasing to the eye mirrors desire. For example, I’ve never been clear why it is that just this curve—may I?’

She looked down to where his bronzed hand moulded the space between her waist and her ribs. Her breathing stopped...her body seemed to wilt. She leaned back a tiny fraction and her bottom grazed his loins. She felt his chest against her shoulder blades. A wall of heat flamed between them.

‘Why do some designers ignore the lines and curves that you have to such perfection—that instantly fire a man’s desires? I cannot understand why they do not design clothes that flatter and complement nature’s basic lines. So many make awful clothes that suit...nobody.’

Briefly he lifted her skirt, looked at the fabric. ‘This is nice.’ He dropped it and stepped away. ‘Perplexing, isn’t it? I could dress you. Very easily. There are rooms full of vintage here—couture and off the peg.’

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